Two of the Preston High School boys were already acquainted with Laura Bentley and some of her friends. Introductions followed rapidly.
"Drop into the Gridley seats and have some of the watermelon," Dick pressed the visitors, he and his chums standing in order to do the honors of the occasion.
"It looks as though we had been trying to invite ourselves to a banquet," laughed Hartwell, "big chief" of the Preston High School "Indians." "We didn't mean to seem as rude as that, Prescott."
"All I know," smiled Dick cordially, "is that you are all heartily welcome. Can we stir up a fire and broil some fish?"
"Don't think of it, thank you," begged Hartwell. "We've had our suppers—-dinners, the hotel folks insist on calling 'em. It's jolly enough for us to be allowed to join you and see the watermelon passing around."
"Chug! chug! Puff! puff!" sounded the returning launch. Dick glanced apprehensively at Dr. Bentley and the ladies. Did the coming of the launch mean that it was about time for the pleasant evening to break up?
"Might I ask where and how you find such delicious watermelons in this neck of the woods?" inquired Brown, of the Prestons.
"Ask the young ladies," piped up Danny Grin, thereby getting himself much disliked for at least the next thirty seconds.
"Dr. Bentley and the young ladies obtained the melons from a farmer," explained Tom Reade, giving Dan an unseen poke in the small of the back.
"These melons look good enough to steal," laughed Hartwell, and was unable to understand the total silence that greeted his assertion.